“There was an update to Alliance software a few weeks ago,” Swift said, his focus remaining on the docking port. “Military and civilian ships all have S&R beacon recognition. It was in the weekly Alliance briefings.”
Grim grunted. “Who has time to read those damn things?”
“Me.” He eased into the docking compartment and locked the ship into place. Drift followed in his vessel, sliding into the spot to their left.
“We’re sending the ball over first,” Grim decided and gave a signal to a team member.
Swift remained in his seat and out of their way as they engaged the docking air locks and opened the access door. Lethal rolled the surveillance ball into the abandoned cargo ship. Clash, their tech specialist, used a touchpad on a tablet to navigate and direct the ball through the ship’s corridors. The ball took samples of the air and surfaces, sending back data about the environment and ensuring there were no biological, chemical or other hazards present. It also scanned for signs of life—and found none.
“Let’s go.” Grim gave the signal for everyone to follow him onto the ship.
Drift remained in the second S&R vehicle, just in case. Swift was second to last out the door. Lethal brought up the rear. It wasn’t often that he carried a side arm, but he was glad for the one he held today. There was something strange about the cargo ship. Eerie. Unsettling. There was an unnerving charge in the air, something that made his skin crawl. He hadn’t ever been prone to fits of squeamishness or fear, but this ship and everything about it made him uncomfortable and nervous.
“Get to the cockpit. Secure it. See if this thing can fly back to the Valiant,” Grim ordered. “Take Lethal with you.”
Swift nodded and stepped off in the direction of the cockpit with Lethal at his side. The rest of the team arced off in a different direction, leaving the two men on their own. Lethal overtook him at the first corner, expertly clearing their path. Swift was happy to let him do it. He was more than competent with a weapon, but he was only a pilot whereas Lethal had years of training as part of the most elite unit of warriors.
“How much farther?” Lethal asked, his weapon still raised and at the ready.
“Not much.” Swift eyed the flaking signage painted onto the walls of the ship. The faded outline of COCKPIT and an arrow remained.
“You think this ship can make it back?” Lethal asked as they turned another corner.
“I can’t say until I see the cockpit and the fuel situation.” Swift caught a whiff of the worst smell and recoiled. Rotten. Decay. Putrid. “Is that—?”
“Death,” Lethal replied with absolute certainty. “It’s a body.” He sniffed a little louder. “Bodies,” he corrected. “A bunch of them.”
Swift had seen plenty of death at war, but he wasn’t particularly keen at getting close enough to smell and touch it. Even so, he kept moving, staying right on Lethal’s heels until they reached the threshold to the flight deck. Instantly overwhelmed by the reeking horror of death, he pulled back and covered his nose and mouth with his forearm. Lethal moved aside, and he finally got a good look at the origin of that stomach churning smell.
Bodies. Naked. Stacked. Throats crushed. Eyes wide open in terror and fogged over. There was some unspeakable filth on the floor, blood and worse mixing together and congealing.
“The missing pilots,” Lethal said before coughing at the stench. “All seven of them.”
“Why?” Swift wondered, astounded by the sight before him. “Why would someone kidnap these pilots just to kill them and arrange them on a cargo ship for us to find?”
“It’s a message.” Lethal activated his radio and relayed the situation to Grim.
“Yeah, well, we found the crew,” Grim answered, his voice crackling over the airwaves. “In the mess freezer. Looks like they were herded in here and locked up to die.”
Swift grimaced. To freeze to death locked in a pitch-black box?
“We need to find the manifest. Make sure everyone is accounted for,” Grim said.
“We should be able to access it from any—.” Swift’s answer was cut off by a thump in the ceiling.
Lethal was instantly alert, aiming his weapon in the direction of the sound. Swift followed suit and silently communicated with Lethal via signal. He could see the closest duct access and was nearer to the panel than Lethal. Quickly and quietly, he crossed the floor and hopped up to yank on the duct panel release lever. The ceiling opened—and two small bodies fell out onto the floor.
Children. A boy and a girl. Neither older than six or seven. Both of them dirty and traumatized. Both screaming in terror.
Remembering what was behind him, Swift lowered his weapon and hurried to scoop them up off the floor. He didn’t want them to see the bodies, and he didn’t think smelling them was any better. He hustled the children back down the corridor as Lethal explained the situation over the radio.
The children stopped screaming as he moved farther away from the nightmare behind them, and both clung to him as if their lives depended on it. Maybe they did. He couldn’t even fathom what these two had seen and survived. Had they been alone this entire time? Hiding on the ship? Adrift?
Before he made it to the docked S&R vehicles, he was intercepted by Grim. Certain the Shadow Force operative was about to start interrogating the children, Swift shook his head. “No. Not yet. They need to get back to our ship. They’re in bad shape.”
Grim narrowed his eyes in frustration but nodded. “Fine. Leave them with Drift then get back here to assess the ship.”
Swift carried the children to Drift’s S&R vehicle. The young pilot seemed staggered by the sight of the filthy, crying children. “What happened? Where did you find those?”
“In the duct work.” Swift took them to the medical bed at the rear of the vehicle. After placing them on it, he crouched down to their level and tried to speak as gently as possible. “My name is Swift. This man is Drift. We’re both pilots. We’re going to take care of you and keep you safe. What are your names?”
The little boy gawked at him, wide eyed and shaking. The girl who seemed to be the older of the two was similarly terrified but managed to squeak out, “I’m Doreen. This is my brother Diego.”
“Are you hurt?” He looked them over for any obvious wounds but didn’t see any. “Or sick?”
“Hungry,” the boy finally managed. “Hungry.”
“I bet you are.” Swift’s heart ached for the wretched situation the children were in and glanced back at Drift. “Rations?”
“Yeah. On it.” Drift rushed to the compartment that held food supplies.
“Papa’s dead,” Doreen said, her voice so quiet he barely heard her over the hum of the ship. “The bad men put him in the freezer.”
“I’m sorry,” Swift said, uncertain what else to say. “What about your mother? Was she on the ship?”
Doreen shook her head. “Mama went ahead on the first ship to ready the house.”
“Went ahead where?” Swift took a juice box from Drift and opened it for Doreen while Drift opened one for the boy.
“A colony,” she said.
“A colony? Which colony?”